


Send Me Off

by Jennyandthejets



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, M/M, NHL Trade(s), Now featuring a happy ending!, Self-Esteem Issues, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-03-04 09:59:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13362225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennyandthejets/pseuds/Jennyandthejets
Summary: Tyson took his seat again and tried to focus on the activity of the game, his mouth continuing to open and close as if he still had something to say. But there was nothing left. When his name came up, he threw himself over the wall as he always did. And he played hockey.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this is really new territory for me. I haven't written published fanfiction since middle school. And never RPF. And I'm doing it on a subject I'm only just beginning to get into (aka hockey). So if I've bullshitted details here and there, my apologies. If my writing is subpar, I also apologize. If it seems kinda unfinished, well you should just see all the other stories I have sitting around my folders. Ha. If I didn't put something out there, I was just going to keep reading all the crap I've written and I really need to progress on endings or into new projects. So here we are. Hope someone enjoys?

“Hey,” Tyson mumbled, his eyes following as Comeau was delivered from the rink to the hallway to for medical to check him over. He nudged Nate next to him, not bothering to look his way. “Where's Dutchy going?”

It hadn't escaped the young defender that Matt hadn't been seeing much playing time that evening. After two shifts he hadn't accomplished much and Tyson had decided that they were sitting him for a prolonged period to get him fired up. With the present situation looming over the center's head, it wasn't hard to see why he might have some trouble getting his head in the game from time to time. Tyson didn't blame him. Didn't feel like it was in his place to do so. At the end of the day, the thing that they all loved so much and came together to do was still a business. It treated people differently, gave them different experiences, and occasionally spit them out worse for wear on the other side. Matt was on that side. Or trying to get there. It happened. It sucked. But Tyson wouldn't blame him. Without being Matt Duchene, he could never fully process exactly what his teammate was dealing with.

Now, Tyson watched with a water bottle raised to his lips as Dutchy followed Comeau and his human crutch off the ice. Had he gotten hurt? Little embarrassing to get hurt just sitting on the bench. Tyson would have seen him go out on the ice for an additional shift. It hadn't happened. Maybe gear problems.

It took him a moment more to realize that Nate was quiet next to him. Tyson turned to his friend, an eyebrow cocked. The alternate was watching the game intently, head lost in the game play. Tyson nudged him. He continued to not respond. Strange. He thought back on if he had finished the last bean burrito in Nate's fridge. Seemed a ridiculous time to be pulling the petty card but those burritos were pretty damn good. Ah well. Nothing he could do now. Nate would never let something as ridiculous as food compromise their game.

Tyson threw in the towel with his childhood friend and opted for Gabe on his left, tapping the blades of their skates together to get his attention. “Dutchy get hurt? Missed whatever happened.”

Gabe gave him a look, a look so very un-Gabelike that Tyson found himself scooting back and away from his captain. “Keep your head in the game, Barrie, yeah?”

Barrie. Tyson repeated the name silently to himself, staring down at his gloves quizzically. Since when had they switched to using last names? The defender hadn't been convinced before then that Gabe even knew his last name. Apparently he had done something. Something that he should likely regret. But it wasn't often that he managed to set both Nate and Gabe off. Nate was his best friend and put up with a lot more of Tyson's shit than he probably should have considering he had Sidney Crosby on speed dial. He got mad at his brunette friend for drinking all his beer, insisting that dessert be served when he popped in for dinner, and taking up too much of the bed when he refused to sleep on the stiff mattress occupying the guest room.

But Gabe? Gabe was... well, Gabe was something. He was the guy who Tyson's eyes lingered on a heartbeat too long in the locker room. Who sometimes looked back. The captain who made his heart do crazy things. Which was dumb. So dumb. And the guy who seemed most willing to put up with Tyson even with Nate in the picture. He didn't complain about his feet up on the dashboard whenever Nate had plans to be somewhere and hadn't bothered to tell Tyson until they were already at the rink having carpooled and Gabe had to drive him home. Or sell him out to the trainers by revealing his secret stash of candy bars (only looked on judgmentally). They had their moments. Mostly brought on by miscommunication, something Tyson really hoped they were on their way to making a breakthrough with.

But to have the two of them mad in conjunction at him? It was damn near impossible. He hadn't blown the game. Yet. Tyson frowned and looked back and forth between them only to find that they were now both avoiding his gaze. It stung to say the least. He had little time to dwell as his name filled the air and Tyson's next shift surfaced. They were here to play a damn fine game of hockey. For now, that was all he could focus on.

Except his mind found a new focus during the next commercial break. Tyson had wedged himself into a new spot on the bench, figuring that he wasn't wanted further down. He focused on his water consumption and let himself spout off about the Islanders players next door in his head only. Mikko and Rocco were speaking quietly next to him. Wanting to help diffuse any tension they might be having about the game, Tyson listened in.

“-can't believe he's gone.”

“I didn't even know they traded people mid-game. Seems kind've archaic... cruel.”

“He did want to go. Better now than never.”

Tyson's hand came down hard on Mikko's shoulder. He jumped but glanced over anyhow. “Uh, hey Tys. You get banished from the senior side of the bench?”

Oh, he'd be getting an earful about that one later. For the moment, there were bigger fish to fry. “What were you just talking about?” Tyson expected a chirp about his eavesdropping but found only a surprised look on the rookie's face. He lowered his voice.

“You didn't hear? Dutchy just got traded. To the Senators. He's packing up and leaving now.”

Tyson was on his feet, unable to explain the sudden rush that passed through him. He turned to his coaches with incredulity on his face. “We need to go say goodbye to Dutchy.” All eyes on the Avalanche bench turned to him. He would have blushed were his mind not on its single track.

Bednar raised a single eyebrow at him. “No time for that, Barrie. Gabe, take the faceoff.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Tyson turned fully around now to stare at his head coach, his brow furrowed, displeased to have been passed over so thoughtlessly. “We can't just let him go. I get that he didn't exactly love it here but he played with us nonetheless. We owe it to him to say goodbye and wish him good luck on his next venture.” He probably didn't need it going to the Senators but it was the thought that counted.

The buzzer sounded, interrupting his impassioned plea. Bednar leaned forward and repeated Gabe's sentiment. “Get your head in the game.”

“But-!”

“Wanna try arguing with me because you can leave right along with him.”

And it hurt, somewhere deep in his soul, even if the threat was a useless one that Bednar had no control over. Tyson stared at him a moment longer, sure that his face reflected that hurt. “But Matt...”

“Shut up and focus, Tys.” It was Nate. That was why they weren't talking. He had heard the gossip long before it had reached Tyson's ears and leaving him out of the loop had seemed in their best interest. Maybe they were right considering how he was acting now. Tyson took his seat again and tried to focus on the activity of the game, his mouth continuing to open and close as if he still had something to say. But there was nothing left. When his name came up, he threw himself over the wall as he always did. And he played hockey.

First intermission was a surprise. One empty locker that had been teeming with equipment not a half an hour before and Tyson's stomach flipped over. He stared at the cleaned out rectangle and wondered what it was like to be between worlds. To be doing exactly as you were asked and still get traded away in the midst of all of it. It made him ill, had him on his feet and seeking out their equipment manager as soon as Coach had said his piece. One false story about loose skate blades and Tyson managed to turn a single minute chat into a conversation that stretched the entirety of the intermission, keeping him out of the locker room for the entirety of the break. Nieto came looking for him eventually, announcing that they were ready to head back.

Tyson played as well as he could though he wouldn't call it his best. At each intermission, he disappeared with one excuse or another, feeling the anger beginning to settle in his stomach. Nate was still avoiding his gaze and Gabe seemed only to frown when their eyes met. It was throwing him for a loop. And honestly. It was pissing him off.

They were all acting like Tyson was in the wrong for this, like he shouldn't have argued with Coach about going to see Matt off. Of course they should have! He was their teammate, had played with them on the ice that very day and countless times before. He'd been through the ringer and while it had to be a relief to be moving on, it also had to be terrifying to be embarking on something entirely new without a word from his teammates because their attention was claimed by a game that seemed less important every second. Where was the importance in it all when the team was apparently so disparate? Why did Tyson seem to be the only one pissed about this? Sure, there was shock and surprise. But no one was angry. No one had demanded to go to Matt and see him off. Why? The defender was positive that he lacked the intelligence to properly interpret this situation.

In the end, the game was a bust. The team hadn't played horrifically without one of their more talented centers (although perhaps Dutchy could've scored them the two points that might have tied the game up) but they still stared down defeat as they filed into the locker room.

Tyson hadn't done too poorly with a mere two assists. It wasn't something to turn the nose up at but he could have done better were his mind truly where it needed to be. They had been right. Of course they had. Head in the game. He could have kept it there easily had they just let the team say their respectful goodbyes.

There wasn't much in the way of speech that evening as they all stared down the still empty locker. It was an odd situation, something that most of the senior players hadn't dealt with let alone the rookies who had joined the team in the midst of turmoil. Tyson kept his eyes trained on the floor as he stripped off his tape and shrugged off his padding. A knee met his part of the way through but Tyson took a page out of Nate's book and opted to ignore the gesture. Not long after, he was disappearing into the showers. A long flight awaited them. He might as well be clean for it.

Tyson announced his displeasure with the entire situation first on the bus when he progressed past his usual shared seat with Nate and dropped into Comeau's unoccupied seat a few rows back. He was stretched out at the back of the bus currently, sleeping off whatever painkillers they'd pumped him full of. He glanced quickly at the alternate and found the look of hurt on his face so overwhelming that Tyson was forced to look away. The situation wasn't Nate's fault of course. But it was still pretty shitty the way he'd acted in there. With anger still roiling in his belly, it didn't seem best to play with fire. Mikko seemed surprised to see him but dropped into the accompanying seat nonetheless and was more than endowed with enough chattering conversation to fill the space. The defender kept his eyes focused out the window, nodding occasionally, and flexing his fists against his thighs.

The plane was another story. Though seats were not assigned, they may as well have been. Each section of seats was split into groups and couples who sat in them, offering them prime opportunity for their favorite hobbies: gaming, reading, card playing, plans for the next prank on the rookies. Tyson, the first player on, sighed and tossed his bag into the overhead before dropping into the seat that Nate would undeniably be sitting next to on the flight out. Again, he wasn't angry with him. More over, he was angry with the situation. Now, was he still rather pissed with Nate telling him to shut up? Damn right. Even if his companion had been trying to do him a favor.

The telltale whoosh of a body claiming the seat next to him had Tyson sighing and mentally preparing before turning in his seat, hands up with full intent to use them to get his point across. Tyson was surprised as anyone to find Comeau next to him. He darted his eyes down the aisle to where Nate was making his way back. The alternate had frozen in step, his eyes focused on his occupied seat. He looked lost. Tyson turned to Comeau who was motioning to him. One second his single finger indicated. Eyes back to Nate who ducked into a currently free pair of seats and stood awkwardly, waiting for his landing seat to open up once more.

Nate stared at the winger, noting that his eyes were still heavy. He probably wouldn't have woken up had he not needed to transfer from bus to plane. Whatever Comeau had to say had to be pretty important for him to not have gone immediately to his collection of seats and fallen back to sleep. He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. Tyson nudged this along.

“Hey, you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Blake brushed him off and leaned in. Tyson followed suit, still confused. “You know I went off with Matt. They-they let me talk to him before he left. I made sure he knew that we... just made sure that he knew we would miss him. I thought you'd want to know.”

For what felt like the first time all night, Tyson grinned. He clapped a hand down over Blake's shoulder and pulled him in for a slight shoulder bump of a hug. “You're a good man.” They chatted a few moments more about the outcome of the game and if Comeau needed anything before the flight attendants started wandering the aisles. The winger finally headed for his seat and Nate took it with a quietly muttered 'thank god.' He had been hopping from one foot to the other in his nervousness.

“Tyson.” The defender glanced up where he had been intently focused on his lap, trying to work out what he planned to say to his friend now that he'd gotten off track. It wasn't Nate who had said his name but Gabe who was turned around in seat just in front of the two. He hadn't had much intention of talking to his captain. How hard was it to just explain what was going on? Or even to take Tyson's side? As he should have. Nate had plenty of trump cards to play right now. Gabe had nothing. Tyson crinkled his nose at the man. “You shouldn't have talked to coach that way.”

The defender took a deep breath through his nose, his middle digit twitching. “Why? You all know I was right.”

“Tys.” It was Nate this time. “We all knew that this trade was inevitable.”

“And I'm not saying anything about that! You know I'm not.” Tyson turned his attention to his companion seated next to him. “All I'm saying is that we should have gotten to shake his hand. Say goodbye. Tell him that we appreciated what he did while he was here.”

“Doubt Dutchy would have wanted that. He just wanted to be out of here.” Gabe.

“Oh yeah? You know this because you got to talk to him? Oh wait, my point is that we didn't. This bull shit about Dutchy wanting that-no, no it is bull shit.” Gabe had opened his mouth to protest but Tyson kept going. “No one wants that! Traded in the middle of a game? Treated like trading fodder for years on end? Nah... no one wants that.” He slunk back in his seat, suddenly exhausted with the effort he was going to trying to prove his point.

Nate nudged his shoulder. “I get it, okay? It sucks that we couldn't say anything to him. And getting the rug pulled out from under your feet would be hard. But... why are you so hung up on this?”

Leave it to Nate to begin to grasp what Tyson was trying to get at even if he didn't completely understand it himself. It was Gabe in front of him who seemed unable or unwilling to catch on.

“It wasn't like you and Matt were great friends.”

“Matt was a great player!” Tyson snapped, his eyes narrowing at his captain. “Young and capable and a great skate and going to do our sport justice.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, settling his head against the back of his seat. His fists were clenched on his thighs. A few more deep breaths and he was opening again, not surprised to find multiple eyes turned in his direction. He lowered his own, feeling self conscious beneath the gaze. “I'm not a good player.”

“What? You're a great player.” God bless Nate and his fucking friendship. He'd follow Tyson to hell and back. He brought a hand down onto the man's knee, the light smacking reverberating in their small area.

“Love you man.” One more deep breath and then Tyson was looking up, his expression steeled. “I'm not though. I'm an okay player. I get the job done with consistency. But I am not an up and coming. Too old for that. I am not a generational talent or a star or a captain or... I'm just a hockey player, okay? I won't go onto what Dutchy will inevitably go onto. My jersey won't be retired and kids won't beg their parents for my number. Do you get it?”

Tyson asked Gabe directly because he seemed the one least able to keep up with this train of thinking. The captain opened his mouth and then closed it again, nodding slowly.

“Dutchy was amazing. And they treated him like he was nothing. Threw him to the wolves.” Tyson pulled his hood up and leaned into the window. “If they can do that to him, what do you think they could do to me?”

No one seemed to have an answer. Tyson tucked into his corner. He could use some sleep before this flight was out. Long day tomorrow when you had to spend it proving your worth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe questions himself in the wake of a poor reaction to a trade. Tyson is happy to be there for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to have a second chapter. I'm not even supposed to be writing Hockey RPF any longer. But this is a lesson for myself in closure since I have already completely failed on my NaNoWriMo novel. I have ~12 stories chilling in my docs that are unfinished. I have every intention to finish and post all of them!
> 
> This story progressed from the fact that I said this story was Tyson/Gabe and then didn't deliver any happiness for them. I only deliver sadness. Psh, like have you seen what else I've written? Oh well, have some closure lovelies because I needed some. And as for Matt Duchene and how things are going over in Ottawa? Let's not. Okay? Okay.
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm not rewriting anything already written which means it might all suck. Heck, everything I write in addition might suck. Sorry about that... =D

“Am I a bad captain?” Gabe rushed to ask before Tyson had even gotten the door all the way open. His pained face and running attire were illuminated by his porch light. The light was eerie against the backdrop of the still dark morning.

“Did you run here?” Tyson murmured with a small, breathy laugh. His tired brain wasn't wrapping around the situation presented before him and the particular question that Gabe was asking. He was really only processing the compression shorts his captain had on in public. Scandalous.

“What? Yeah. Couldn't sleep.”

“I was sleeping fine,” the defender managed around a yawn. He watched Gabe's face dissolve from annoyed into the fondness that he always seemed to possess in Tyson's company. He smirked inwardly, completely aware that he still had it. Still, moments later, his face was fading back into worry before Tyson's very eyes, the blonde hopping from foot to foot, apparent nerves. Tyson frowned, his senses finally starting to catch up with the fact that he was to be awake now. “You wanna come in?”

Gabe hesitated a moment, seemingly fearful that he might be intruding. Tyson recognized the look. He snorted and turned to the living room, leaving the door open as a clear invitation. His captain was a regular visitor at his place. Though not often at two am. But Tyson was already awake, so they might as well get comfortable through whatever anxiety Gabe needed Tyson to talk him through.

“Now what's all this bad captain stuff?” The defenseman took a seat on the couch, curling around a throw pillow. He watched Gabe pad in, throwing nervous glances around like Tyson's place was unfamiliar enemy territory. Perhaps he hadn't been over as much lately but that was the curse of a busy season. Especially when it contained a potential playoff run! Tyson did have to admit that he was missing Gabe sitting next to him on this exact couch, kicking his ass in Call of Duty. He would never say that aloud of course.

Tyson cocked his head questioningly, earning a long sigh from his captain who still hadn't taken a seat despite Tyson leaving a very large gap on the couch next to him. He was leaning against the back of the recliner, still bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Gabe, what-”

“It's about Matt.”

Tyson stiffened and let his gaze leave Gabe. “Thought we were done talking about that.” After Tyson's outrage with the situation, the whole team had come together to quietly admit that they probably could have handled the situation better but that they weren't going to talk about him any longer in an effort to move on. Tyson wouldn't go as far as to call Gabe a bad captain for bringing him up but he wasn't interested in talking about Matt any more. He'd been particularly angry with Gabe there for awhile, convinced that he'd handled the situation all wrong. Still, he was not a bad captain.

“I know but... I just keep thinking about him and how I acted.” Gabe crushed his fingers into his beautiful, golden hair and pulled. Tyson opened his mouth to reprimand him but was cut off as words continued to pour out of his captain's mouth. “You were right, okay? I should have demanded we stop play to go say goodbye. Penalties be damned. He was a valuable member of this team and he didn't deserve to go out like that. It's my job to make this place accommodating and I couldn't even do that for him! The least I could have done was get his team together to say goodbye.”

Suddenly, Gabe was upon him, clutching Tyson's hands. “You are an amazing fucking player. You know that right? And I would be a wreck if they did that to you. I'd be pissed and lost and...” He took a moment to release a shaky breath. Tyson, expecting that Gabe needed to say more, stayed quiet. It was a rarity for Tyson, truly. “What do I do if we don't play together one day? What if they trade you? I know it's going to happen because every one is going to want you but I can't even think about it because-because I don't have an answer! I'm going to fall apart if you leave me and they all know it. I know it! I can't do this without you, Tyson. I can't.”

Emotion swelled in his voice and on his face. Embarrassed, he hid his face in his friend's hands. Tyson breathed deep as he felt the wetness on his knuckles.

“Gabe?” Tyson attempted after a moment, his voice soft. Gabe didn't look up until his teammate wiggled his fingers still contained in his captain's grasp. The somber looked on his face cracked Tyson's heart into a million pieces. First things first, he twitched his fingers out of their hold before gripping Gabe's wrists and dragging him onto the couch. He bundled his captain to his side and held tight. He was still sweaty from his run over and now shaking from the emotion coursing through him. Tyson held tighter.

“Have you been thinking about this since...?” Still not wanting to refer to the situation in detail, Tyson trailed off, looking expectantly at his friend. The blonde nodded slowly, looking lost in his defender's arms. Tyson sighed and stroked a comforting hand through Gabe's hair. He took it as a good sign when the man leaned into the touch. “This wasn't something you did.”

Gabe seemed to want to protest so Tyson pushed on. “No, it wasn't. I know I reacted... poorly that night. But we all knew that Matt wanted out of here. No matter what was happening. He wanted out. And it wasn't any of us that drove him out. Now management, eh.” He shrugged and made a face that Gabe seemed to understand. They had always gotten each other. “But it wasn't because you're a bad captain. You're an amazing one of those.”

Only the limited moonlight coming in through the window and the blue of the TV Tyson had neglected to turn off before bed were lighting the room. Still, Tyson could just see Gabe's face. The worried wrinkles set into his skin. The slight wetness on his cheeks, a mix of sweat and the few tears he'd shed. It touched Tyson that Gabe felt so comfortable with him. Even more so that he would announce himself unable to handle a hockey team that didn't have Tyson Barrie on it.

Tyson stroked those cheeks, brushing away the last of the wetness with a warm smile. “That was quite an outburst. Not really what I expect from you. Maybe me but... not you.”

Those wet cheeks had gone red, Gabe flushing with embarrassment as his outburst caught up with him. He brought up a hand to scrub at his nose, earning a laugh from Tyson at the disgusting, accompanying noise.

“You think too highly of me,” Tyson admitted after a few moments of quiet had passed between them.

Gabe shook his head. “No, I don't. You make me better, Barrie.”

“You make me better, Landesnerd.”

Finally a laugh from Gabe, though it was still a bit watery. “I'm trying to have a moment here. Why do you have to ruin it?”

“Think that's in my job description.”

“What job would that be?”

“Best friend obviously.”

Gabe snorted. “Nate's going to be so offended if I move in on you like that.”

“Then maybe we can think up a better title for me?” Tyson asked quietly, cocking his head again. Gabe was watching him, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. The shaking had ceased but his shoulders were still up by his ears. Tyson could feel tense muscles beneath his hands. That wouldn't do. He tried not to think too hard about it before leaning in and locking his lips with Gabe's.

The tension seemed to drain from his captain's entire body then. Tyson was smug under his lips as he caused the man to literally melt into the kiss. Of course, who was Tyson to talk considering that he was doing the exact same thing on the other half of the couch.

This had been a thing for awhile. Both of them had been the cusp of pressing the other into the wall and kissing them breathless. Their Matt related drama had cooled things down but they were moving on. They were a good team this year. Playoffs weren't guaranteed but it was nothing like the year previously when they hadn't even been a pipe dream.

It was Gabe who pulled away first, happiness finally ruling his expression. “I-I guess we'll work on that title?”

Tyson beamed. “Aye aye... captain.” He winked, somehow managing to make the blonde's face go that much redder.


End file.
